Page 77 of Faking All the Way
The compliment sends heat racing through me, especially when he leans across the table and drops his voice to a rough register that makes my thighs clench.
“You have this glow about you.” He slides his tongue along his teeth lightly, his focus lingering on my face. “Your cheeks are flushed a gorgeous pink, just the way your ass was from my handprint last night. It’s incredibly sexy.”
“Asher!” I protest softly, glancing around to make sure no one can overhear us.
“What? It’s true. You look like a woman who’s been properly fucked, and I fucking love it.”
My face flames, but I can’t deny the thrill that runs through me at his crude assessment. There’s something about the way he says it—matter-of-fact and possessive and completely unashamed—that makes me feel wanton and sexy.
When our food arrives, I’m still flustered and aroused, aware of every look he gives me, every casual touch when he reaches across the table to steal a piece of bacon from my plate.
The grilled cheese sandwiches are even better than I remembered, mouthwateringly cheesy and crispy. Exactly the kind of indulgent comfort food my body is craving after the workout it got last night. I take a bite and can’t help the moan of pleasure that escapes. I’m starving, and the combination of flavors is exactly what I need right now.
Asher pauses with his own sandwich halfway to his mouth, watching me. He mutters a curse under his breath.
I grin, swallowing. “What?”
“You’re killing me, making noises like that.” He shakes his head. “Goddamn. It’s a miracle I ever managed to keep my shit together around you, especially these last few days.”
Something flutters in my chest at the admission. “Was the tension driving you as crazy as it was driving me?”
“More.”
I smile, pleased to know it wasn’t just me losing my mind. “Does that mean we’re going to keep doing this? Hooking up?”
“Hell fucking yes.” His face grows more serious for a moment, his gaze searching mine. “But I need to know if you’re really okay with this. With it just being sex. Knowing it won’t go anywhere.”
A flicker of doubt ripples through me, a small voice asking if I reallycankeep this casual. But I push that worry aside, laughing softly as I arch a brow at him. “Are you kidding me? You made my body feel things last night that I’veneverfelt before. I’m definitely okay with it. This is fun.”
And itisfun. It’s exciting and freeing and makes me feel alive in a way I really fucking like.
His eyes heat at my words. “Yeah, it is. And I have an idea of a few other fun things we could do.”
I blush, my pussy clenching even though he hasn’t said anything particularly dirty yet. “Oh yeah? Like what?”
He leans across the table a bit, probably about to murmur something absolutely filthy based on the look in his eyes—but before he can speak, his phone rings.
The moment breaks as he glances at the caller ID. When he sees that it’s his dad, Asher’s brows pull together. He answers, clearing his throat as he leans back in the booth. “Dad? What’s going on?”
I can’t hear Edward’s words, but I read the progression of emotions on Asher’s face as he listens—worry first, then exasperation, then a hint of amusement.
He speaks to his father in a low voice for a minute, then hangs up with a sigh. “Murphy’s stuck in a crawl space under the kitchen cabinets. My dad can’t get him out because of the crutches, and apparently the fire department is busy with an actual emergency. Kitchen fire across town.”
“Oh no! Poor Murphy.” I can’t help but smile at the mental image of that massive orange cat wedged into a too-small space. “Are you going to go rescue him?”
“Yeah. Duty calls.” He signals for the check, but his eyes meet mine again, the earlier heat returning. “Rain check on round two?”
I nod, my pulse racing at the promise in his gaze. “You’re on.”
We finish our food quickly, drain the last of our coffee, and head out into the cold. The winter air hits my face in a rush, making me realize how flushed I probably still am.
At the car, Asher says, “You don’t have to come, you know.” But he’s already opening the passenger door for me.
“Are you kidding? I’m not missing the Murphy rescue mission.” I buckle my seatbelt. “Besides, someone has to document this for posterity.”
He grins, looking pleased that I want to come along. “Well, when you put it that way…”
As he drives, we fall into a discussion about how Murphy managed to get himself into this situation in the first place. Our usual banter flows easily, and I feel a surge of relief wash over me.
